


400. hunting songs of nymphs

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [144]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “Do you like my drawings,” Helena whispers. “I have a game for you, not-Beth. Figure out which one is you.”
They’re all identical. Except—
“That one,” Sarah says, slowly lifting up a hand and pointing at the bright red question mark. “That’s why you told me to come here, isn’t it? You don’t get it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> [warning: blood, incest overtones vis a vis helena's lack of chill]

“Hello again, not-Beth,” says a voice behind Sarah in the dark, and then Sarah is shoved forward. She falls to her knees on a – oh, shit, _bloody_ – mattress in the middle of the cellar and this is her fault, isn’t it, for going ahead of Art and the other cops. She should have waited for backup – but the thought of them making it here and finding this killer with her face was a strong motivator to come alone.

She doesn’t even have her gun.

(She’s still not used to carrying a gun.)

“Helena,” she says shakily as the cold barrel of a pistol nuzzles against the back of her head. “Surprised you’re still walking. Rebar to the liver, that must’ve hurt, yeah?”

“You want to remind me?” asks Helena curiously, and the gun is a firm pressure against the back of Sarah’s skull.

“Don’t see you starting a conversation,” Sarah says, filling her voice with a bravado she doesn’t have. “Thought you wanted to talk.”

“In time,” Helena says, voice a hum. “I didn’t think you would be this clever. I thought your pig friends would have to find this place for you. Maybe you are detective, after all.”

“Fortune tellers,” Sarah says. “Clever.” She risks a glance around. God, the mattress is bloody, that’s – just – _gross_ , which is incongruous with the fact that Sarah is terrified for her life. There are stick figures all over the walls. Like, _all_ over.

“Do you like my drawings,” Helena whispers. “I have a game for you, not-Beth. Figure out which one is you.”

They’re all identical. Except—

“That one,” Sarah says, slowly lifting up a hand and pointing at the bright red question mark. “That’s why you told me to come here, isn’t it? You don’t get it.”

“Very good,” Helena sighs, and the gun leaves the back of Sarah’s skull – only to reappear at her forehead, shiny silver metal. Helena has circled the mattress and is now sitting in front of Sarah, cross-legged. Sarah’s still on her knees. One of them is smirking.

“You have her eyes,” Helena says, lifting up her other hand and trailing the tips of her fingers underneath Sarah’s eyes – enough to send Sarah’s eyelashes fluttering frantically, twitching against Helena’s fingertips.

“And her mouth, with her words.” Her fingers press against Sarah’s mouth and for a second Sarah thinks she’s just going to shove her hand in, but she doesn’t.

“And her hair.” Helena tugs on a chunk of Sarah’s hair, once, like turning on a lamp. Click.

“But you aren’t her.”

“No I’m not,” Sarah says. “And you’re never gonna figure out why if you kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Helena says, sounding offended at the idea. She pauses. “At least. Not yet.”

“Not until you figure me out, huh?”

Helena smiles, sour and sincere. “Exactly.” She shoves the pistol further into Sarah’s forehead, hard enough to leave a dent; her face is curious, excited, like a child turning a magnifying glass on an anthill just to see if it’ll be pretty when it burns.

Sarah lifts her hand – slowly – and wraps it around Helena’s hand. Helena’s eyes go very wide; her mouth opens into a round o-shape. Sarah lowers the gun from her forehead, one slow coaxing inch at a time.

“You want to talk,” she says, “let’s talk.”

Helena looks at her with those wide, wide eyes – like Sarah is fascinating, like Sarah is terrifying, like she’s going to eat Sarah alive. Then her interest abruptly jumps elsewhere.

“Not yet,” she says, sounding disappointed. Her gaze snaps back to Sarah. She _grins_ , suddenly, a gleeful childlike flash of teeth. “Again. Sorry, not-Beth. Soon.”

She leans forward and plants a big smack of a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, right where the muzzle of the gun was. Then she yanks the pistol out of Sarah’s grasp, points it at her forehead, and stumbles away into the dark. (There’s a bloom of blood on her shirt. Can’t be easy, running like that.) Sarah is left on the mattress, alone and disconcerted, when she hears the sounds of footsteps on the stairs.

“Beth?” says the detective she thinks is DeAngelis. “You _praying_ or something?”

“Or something,” says Sarah in Beth’s admirably unshaking voice. She flashes a grin. “What took you so long?”

When they’re distracted by the wall Sarah wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. It comes away wet. They’re going to find another entrance back there in the dark somewhere, Sarah knows, and it will have been recently used, and Helena is out there with a gun and the terrible, desperate need to _know_ Sarah. So that she can kill her.

_Alright_ , Sarah thinks helplessly, and she gets back on her feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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